


Fire and Water

by L_C_Darius



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_C_Darius/pseuds/L_C_Darius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beverly and Jean-Luc reflect on their marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Water

A warm fire flickered in the fireplace, its flames licking the sides of the large, stone cavern, heat spreading to the iron grate in front of it as well as the room beyond. The room was still, empty-at least for the moment. The large four-poster bed stood at the ready, neatly made. An empty travel bag was tucked beneath its frame, the contents of which were neatly placed in the drawers of the polished oak dresser along the wall. Windows behind the bed were framed by curtains, their criss-crossed panes streaked with water from the storm raging outside. The scent of rain and wet earth snuck in through small cracks around the glass. All was silent, save the crackling of the fire and patter of the rain.

Then, a sound. Footsteps coming up the hallway. The door hinges creaked and a growing sliver of light was cast across the bed. The room's inhabitants entered.

"-so Marie should be back before the end of the week. We won't have to worry about taking the delivery after all."

"Good. I'd hate to have to get back to the Enterprise without spending a few days with her. You really are lucky she decided to stay around, Jean-Luc. I don't think I'd've been able to."

Jean-Luc nodded, smiling. "She's quite a woman. Robert was a lucky man. Then again, so am I. Beverly?"

"Hmm?" she responded, looking up from the drawer she was pawing through. Seeing the look on her husband's face, she straightened up and walked over to sit next to him on the bed. "What is it?"

"It's just a bit surreal being back here, isn't it? A year and two months. Last time we were here it had barely been two days. It's all hitting me how far we've come since then."

Beverly nodded her head in agreement. It was the first time they'd been back at the vineyard since their wedding the previous September. She'd felt it, too. Being back had driven home the fact that they were no longer newlyweds. This marriage, this relationship had become a regular part of their lives. The novelty no longer remained: a knowing intimacy had replaced it. Sometime over the past year, she'd grown accustomed to again having someone to refer to as her husband, and accustomed to associating that term not with Jack Crusher, but with Jean-Luc Picard.

She watched as Picard got up from his seat next to her and walked to the window. "I can look out there and see these fields, these grapes. They're the same as ever. I half expect to see Robert and myself running about as children, or find him tending to a sick vine in the fields. It's always the same here. It's me who's different. This is the first time in a long time that I've felt secure with the changes in my life. I'm happy with the direction it's taken."

His words tugged at Beverly's heart. It wasn't often that she got to see this side of him. Oh, they told one another how they felt. They were loving, in love every day. But this reflective side of Jean-Luc was a rare gift. She'd never been with someone who could stir her heart like this simply by telling her his thoughts. He wasn't trying to seduce her, to confess his love, but he might as well have been. Drawn to him, she got to her feet and moved towards the window as well.

"All my life I said I didn't want a family. I wasn't a marrying man, I said. Well, here I am. Married. And I couldn't be happier." His words cut off as Beverly wrapped her arms around his waist. She gently kissed the side of his neck, feeling the tender skin beneath her lips, inhaling the scent that had become so familiar to her over the years, that was uniquely him. Pulling back, she looked at his strong profile. In the darkened room, his face showed only the shadows cast by the fire and the reflection of the rain falling steadily down the window.

Jean-Luc turned in Beverly's arms to face her. His hazel eyes, which had been turned a steely grey in the dim light, met her blue ones. The look in them sent a shot of desire through Beverly. He wanted her, not just physically, but emotionally. She could see it. And she wanted him. Her heart quickened and she thought fleetingly how amazing it was that all he needed to elicit such a response was a look. They stood gazing at one another in silence, letting the tension build, their senses heightened by the desire now coursing between them. `

Beverly could hear the popping of the fire and the tapping of the rain, her quickened breaths and Jean-Luc's shallow inhalations. She could feel the warmth of the flames on her skin, the soft fabric of her husband's shirt beneath her hands. It was intoxicating.

Slowly, Jean-Luc leaned towards her. Given the passion already flowing between them, the touch of his lips was surprisingly light. She felt his mouth on hers, her lower lip ever-so-slightly between his. He pulled away and returned a few times before pressing his mouth harder to hers and sliding his arms around her, bringing her closer. As their torsos contacted one another, she let out a soft noise. Jean-Luc broke the kiss, and Beverly took the opportunity to glide her hands up his chest and around to the base of his neck.

She let her forehead rest against his, thankful not for the first time that she and Jean-Luc were almost the same height. Her hands crept up his neck to finger the sparse hair at the back of his head. Picard smiled at the sensation and let out a soft sigh. Beverly closed her eyes and let her other senses do the work. She felt Jean-Luc tug gently at her. The warmth on her left side increased. He was moving away from the window. Towards the bed. The thought excited her even more. No matter how familiar things became in their marriage, this would never get old, never routine.

Jean-Luc's mouth returned to hers, again with short kisses in sequence. This time, however, hers moved with his. His lips caught more of hers with every kiss, deepening with each passing moment. A thrill shot through her as she felt the tip of his tongue brush the edge of her upper lip. With the next kiss, it touched further down on her lip, another spike shooting through her, this one coming to rest between the wings of her hips. One more kiss and the desire took root, refusing to be dislodged. Jean- Luc's tongue had only to graze the sensitive inner surface of her top lip before she opened to him, allowing him free range to explore. She felt, more than heard him moan as her tongue slid against his. In one swift motion, he pulled her closer with one arm, while dragging his other hand to her waist, and then upward between them. As his hand cupped the underside of her breast, she grabbed the back of his head firmly and held it to her, clutching desperately at his shirt.

Oh, yes, she thought to herself. This was going to be wonderful. They'd always had tremendous chemistry. She had known for years that when they finally got around to it, the sex was going to be incredible. But nothing had prepared her for the added edge provided by their emotional connection. It was times like this that they got swept away by it. It became less about the physical actions, the pleasure, the passion, and all about the love and intimacy between them. She loved him, and that was all she cared about. And that he loved her.

As his tongue stroked leisurely against hers, Beverly felt her pulse quicken even more. Or was that his heart beating against her chest that she felt? She couldn't be sure, wasn't even sure that it made any difference, that there was a difference between the two at this point. His slow pace was gloriously tortuous, but she was already beginning to feel lightheaded with need and they were hardly touching. Chests pressed together, the rest of their bodies were several centimeters apart. Things needed to get moving, Beverly decided. If they didn't, she wasn't going to be able to take much more of this.

As though reading her mind, Jean-Luc broke out of the kiss. Beverly felt a rush of hot breath pass between them. She opened her eyes to stare straight into his. They stood that way for the briefest of moments before she lunged for his earlobe, taking it between her teeth, and pressed her hips swiftly against his. Picard gasped jerkily at the sudden contact. Beverly smiled, feeling evidence that she wasn't the only one whose body was running off with her. Her hand left his neck, dragging across his shoulder to grasp at his bicep of the arm kneading her left breast. The motion of his hand was mirrored in the strong muscle beneath her fingers. Each squeeze of his hand, each pulse of his muscle matched the persistent throb she felt deep within her.

This was no longer enough. She needed to be closer, to feel more of him. Her hands left their resting places and slid to the hem of his black sweater. He looks sexy in black she thought fleetingly, though at the moment she was much more anxious to see him out of it. He grunted in disapproval as she moved her mouth away from his ear, but acquiesced, releasing her breast and pulling the sweater over his head. It landed with a soft plop on the hardwood floor near the window.

For a moment, Beverly waited for him to repay the favor, to rid her of her sweater as well. Between the burning of the fire and of her passion, she was engulfed in heat, both inside and out. She longed for him to run his hands under the thick fabric and pull it up and off. But he made no such move.

So, instead, she simply studied him. As his doctor, she had seen him shirtless many times and had tended to many of the scars she now saw highlighted by the fire: a long, straight one from repeated heart surgeries, which she knew was accompanied by its jagged partner on his back, a shorter one left by a Cardassian blade many years ago just below his clavicle, and a few others here and there. As his best friend, she had grieved over each and every one of them. But now, as his lover, as his wife, she had come to know them in a new way. Each scar was responsible for a piece of the man she loved more than life itself. Each had impacted him and made him into the man he now was. In a way, she owed her happiness and contentment to those little, irregular pieces of tissue. When she looked at Jean-Luc's chest, they were the first things that stood out to her. Taking in the whole picture, though, her eyes glanced over the smattering of hair across his upper body, light and grey, the well-toned muscles under his skin, and the compact frame beneath it all.

Beginning with his navel, her eyes traced a pattern upwards over his stomach, chest, shoulders, and neck, finally meeting his. He had been watching her as she in turn had been looking at him. They had separated with the removal of his shirt-physically, at least-and now Beverly's body ached for him to return. She needed to show him with her body the closeness she felt in her heart. There was no option here. It had to happen.

As if sensing this, Picard returned to her, this time speeding his formerly slothful pace. He began again with a kiss to her mouth, this one long, lingering, and deep. She felt both hands go to her back. One arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her lower body into close contact with his, while the other journeyed up her back, still atop her shirt, pulling her chest against his.

A sharp, yet soft oh escaped her mouth as his left hers, placing kisses along her jaw line, then down her neck. Once he reached the neckline of her shirt, Jean-Luc pulled at it a bit, moving it aside trying to reach the hollow above her clavicle without wasting the time to remove the garment. She could tell that he, too, was getting caught up in the sensations being created between them. Their clothing was getting in the way, but neither, she knew, wanted to stop to remove it.

The coolness of his hand against the bare skin of the small of her back surprised her, sending her excitement level again up again. She loved it when he did that. In the midst of his methodical exploration of her body, he often jumped to an unexpected spot like that. It was just enough to catch her off guard and aroused her even more with its suddenness. It was her clue that she was, indeed, getting to him. If Jean-Luc could have his way, he would start with her mouth and slowly work his way out and down until he had paid due attention to every part of her. This much she knew. Any deviation from that showed a weakening in his disciplined expedition. His hand had jumped the gun, making its foray beneath her clothing prematurely.

This one slip stirred Jean-Luc to greater action. Suddenly both hands were there, tugging the white sweater up and out of the way. Beverly removed her hands from where they had found a place on Jean-Luc's waist and pulled the top over her head, tossing it to lie with its fellow shirt.

Neither could restrain a moan as the skin of their upper bodies contacted for the first time that night. They clutched desperately to one another, hands grasping at each other's backs to pull their bodies closer, lips kissing whatever bit of skin happened to be most accessible at the moment. Beverly felt Jean-Luc's hips press ever-so-slightly against hers and she responded in kind, wishing that her skirt allowed them greater contact. In an effort to get that, her hands sought out the waistband of his trousers. They made quick work of the button and zipper, but were careful not even to brush up against him accidentally. She wanted to make him wait, just as she had to. It would be that much better if she let the tension build even more, that much more satisfying when they finally touched, finally joined together. She pushed the pants down his hips, where they fell to pool around his ankles. He stepped gingerly out of them and closer to Beverly, again pulling her into his arms and kissing her fully. After the brief hiatus, some of the urgency had faded away, allowing them to take a slower pace again. Their lips moved languorously in tandem with one another, tongues staying out of the way for now.

Jean-Luc's hands moved over her back and hips and shoulders, covering as much area as they could at one time. Though their movements had slowed, the pulsing ache Beverly felt remained. In an effort to relieve some of the need, she thrust her hips against his again and again, all the while kissing him harder. She could feel him there, ready against the front of her thigh and wanted nothing more than to be able to rub herself against him, to create just a bit of friction, anything to relieve the tension. But the stiff material of her skirt prevented it and Jean-Luc seemed perfectly content to just kiss her and caress her back. Hoping to stir him to action, she grasped his shoulders with both hands, fingers digging into the muscled flesh, pleading.

The thought occurred to her that she could simply remove the skirt herself. But, oh, she loved it when he did it for her. There was something about the feel of his hands there at the small of her back, knuckles gently pressing against her spine as he pulled the zipper slowly, his palms against the skin of her hips as he slid his hands inside the loosened waistband to pull it down until gravity took over. A strangled groan of desperation escaped her at the thought. But it seemed that Jean-Luc was in a teasing mood. She felt him smile against her lips, then pull away and begin to tongue the pulse point under her jaw, mouth warm against her bare skin. Letting her head loll back, she let out another beseeching moan. Gone was her earlier thought of delaying contact: it had vanished long ago.

At last, she felt it: a short, restrained thrust against her thigh. He needed this just as much as she did, she realized. In response, she took one of his hands in hers and pushed it under the wire of her bra so that his fingertips just barely grazed the soft skin on the underside of her breast. A digit began to stroke there along where the breast met her ribs. One more thrust of her hips was all it took. His hand retreated from her bra and met its partner at the back of her skirt. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his knuckles there. The muted sound of the teeth of the zipper being pulled apart upped her level of arousal, as did the anticipation of being unencumbered by the garment and able to feel him at last. Then his hands were at her hips, slipping below the band of the skirt and sliding down. Finally, she felt the warmth of the fire on her newly exposed skin, heard the soft whisper of the skirt hitting the floor. She took a step forward, shoving it under the bed with her other foot. They came together again, pressed tightly against one another from mouth to waist, nothing between them but underwear. Beverly prodded at his inner thigh with her knee. Jean-Luc responded quickly, nudging his leg between hers. Reflexively, she pressed down on it, rolling her hips against the muscled limb. She sagged slightly against him as he began lightly pulling his leg back and forth. It was exactly what she needed. He had taken the edge off and she was again able to dial back some of the urgency. Jean-Luc's lips traveled from the side of her neck up to behind her ear. One of his hands curled around the back of her neck and tenderly manipulated the fine hair that did not reach back into the clasp with the rest.

No matter how heated things got between them, Jean-Luc always treated her reverently like that. It amazed Beverly even still. She imagined it always would. Quite often, in the midst of a passionate, urgent moment, he would slow and one detail would draw his attention, just as her hair was now. Sometimes it would be an ear or her nose, others the soft skin on the back of her knee or her shoulder. Once, early on, she had asked him about it. He had replied by saying that there were times that he couldn't believe what was happening between them, that it was finally real. He couldn't take in all of her at once without being overwhelmed. One part was all he could handle. By now, he'd gotten used to the idea of them being together, and his tunnel vision evidenced that he was getting overwhelmed by the love between them. It was his way of maintaining some semblance of control.

Goosebumps sprang up along her neck and arms as she heard him whispering in her ear. Soft words telling her of his love, his feelings. Jean-Luc certainly wasn't a dirty talker. But his way with words lent a sheer eroticism to anything that came out of his mouth. He murmured to her, trying to explain the way he felt, how much he needed her, how much he wanted her to touch him, to love him. He wanted to make her his. To love her in return, just as she deserved. Though the joints had held up well until this point, Beverly's knees weakened a bit at hearing his expressions. She thought it probably had something to do with how guarded she knew Jean-Luc to be. This vulnerability excited her; it reminded her of how much he loved her and how much was between them.

In response, she ran her hands down his chest to his hips. From there, she let one venture to the soft waistband of his underwear. Rather than delving inside, however, it trailed down over the fabric. Gently, she bent her fingers and brushed her knuckles over him. Beneath her hand, he swelled more, pulsing in time with the insistent throbbing she felt within herself. She moved to touch him without barrier, but he stopped her, instead backing her to the bed and seating her on the edge.

Curiously, she watched him as he dropped to his knees before her. In surprise and anticipation, she complied as he lifted one of her legs from the bed and extended it towards him. Her eyes were riveted to his and his to hers. His fingers hooked under the top of the stocking she wore and pulled it evenly down her leg. She'd forgotten that she was even wearing them. It was rare that she did, but it was winter, after all. And his doing this was incentive enough to wear them more often.

He repeated the process on the other leg, though this time his fingers started much farther up her thigh, skimming over her skin before finding the top of the stocking. Never once did their eyes part. At that moment, Beverly felt that the whole world consisted of nothing more than the two of them. Nothing else mattered; not the fire in the hearth, nor the rain on the window, nor the vineyard, the Enterprise, Starfleet. Nothing. Here and now, there was only them.

Eyes still glued to hers, Jean-Luc placed a kiss on the inside of the ankle of the leg he'd just bared. And another just above that. And another and another all the way up her leg, pausing here and there to run his tongue over an area, then continuing on his upward journey.

Once he had reached almost to the juncture of her leg and torso, Picard stopped and placed her leg back on the bed. He then stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he pulled her up to stand opposite him. Her knees crackled slightly as she straightened them, a memento of too many years of dancing.

His eyes roved over her and she stood unashamedly letting him look wherever he pleased. The lust was visible in his eyes, but so was a great deal of love. Beverly had come to realize long ago that the two were inextricably linked in their relationship. They loved one another to such an extent that there were times when only actions could convey it. Their love for one another found an outlet in purely physical desires. She knew she didn't love Jean-Luc solely because they had this chemistry, but she also knew that the chemistry was just as much an integral part of their relationship as anything else. It was a way for them to communicate. A way in which they could be open and vulnerable with one another and with no one else.

He took a step towards her, a hand resting on her waist. Its partner reached behind her back and deftly undid the clasp of her bra. Beverly felt the elastic band loosen and the demi-cups pull away from her breasts. She smiled a bit and slid the straps down her arms, the rest of the undergarment falling away with it; she tossed it aside carelessly. It landed on the floor in front of the fireplace. At first, Jean-Luc made no move to touch her exposed flesh. Instead, he urged her to turn her back to him and she did. His arms encircled her waist fully. She rested her arms atop his, gasping slightly when one snaked up to gently fondle a breast. A warm breath on her neck signaled his presence and she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. He placed open-mouthed kisses there for a few moments as he brushed lightly over a nipple with his thumb.

Without warning, his mouth was gone and his unoccupied hand was removing the clasp which held her hair loosely back from her face. Beverly's pulse quickened at the action. This meant he was almost ready to get things really moving. During foreplay he liked her hair up: it gave him easy access to her neck and ears. But once things got serious, he loved running his fingers through the red strands.

Beverly felt the tips of her hair brush against her shoulder blades. She looked back over her shoulder to find Jean-Luc several inches away, moving towards the side of the bed. He lay down near the middle and she followed, taking her place closer to the edge.

As Beverly lay down on her back, Jean-Luc scooted closer, entwining one leg with hers and resting on his side facing his wife. She could feel his erection against her hip and it made the ache she felt pulse stronger. She again rubbed herself against his thigh in time with the slight thrusts he was making against her, but this time it did less to quell the urgency rising within her. She was still determined for them to take their time, though. This was glorious and she wasn't going to rush through it just because her body was demanding it.

Her stomach muscles tightened as one of Jean-Luc's fingers began tracing sinuous patterns across them. Beverly reached for his hand with one of her own and brought it to her mouth. Now was her turn to tease him. Jean-Luc had sensitive fingers, she knew. She began by kissing the back of his hand lovingly. Her kisses became longer and her mouth opened against the soft skin. Pulling away, she turned his hand and did the same to his palm, this time tracing circles around the flesh with her tongue. It ran up his thumb and she pulled the finger tip into her mouth, gently licking and sucking at it. She moved from one finger to the next, taking her time with each, delighted by the fact that his thrusting against her hip had increased pace and fallen into time with her actions.

Picard's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open as Beverly's mouth continued its work on his hand. He stopped his idle caress of her stomach and moved his hand lower, between her legs. She moaned faintly around his ring finger and lifted her hips involuntarily against his cupping digits. In response, he pressed his thick middle finger against the fabric of her underwear and dragged it slowly upwards. She rolled her hips in tandem with his motions, hoping to prolong the sensation. He repeated his actions again and again, until finally Beverly could take no more. Despite the relief she felt at having him finally touch her, her internal muscles tightened, clamping rhythmically, on fire from his teasing. She pulled her mouth from his hand and reached down to where he was moving against her. Her hand settled comfortably on him, squeezing slightly, feeling how ready he was. While she had intended to tease him a bit, her plan backfired. Once her fingers had clasped around his penis, all she could think was that she needed to feel him inside of her. No more waiting, no more teasing, no more playing.

Her fingers dipped under the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down as far as she could. Breathing heavily, she sat up a bit, frowning as his hand was dislodged from where it had been caressing her, and pulled the undergarments the rest of the way off. Quickly, Jean-Luc did the same with her underwear, tossing them over the side of the bed.

Finally, Beverly felt Jean-Luc's weight settle atop her. While she enjoyed trying new things every so often, as well as being on top and taking control, in her mind there was nothing as wonderful as feeling his body atop hers, gravity pulling him down on her. She was so ready for him, so ready for this to happen. As her legs parted and he settled between them, she could feel him just barely touching her entrance, tapping against it ever so slightly. They waited, eyes locked, dilated pupils even with one another, both drawing out that moment of anticipation. Finally, able to wait no longer, Jean-Luc bent his head and kissed her, as he slowly and evenly began to enter. Her back arched involuntarily at his penetration and she felt her upper body lift away from the bed. Jean-Luc continued to push in steadily, completing their joining in one smooth stroke. He began to retreat at the same slothful pace, but Beverly stopped him with a hand on his lower back. The momentary high of penetration had rushed through her and she feared that any more movement from him would push her over the edge before she was ready. Sighing, Beverly let herself drop back down to the bed, her eyes falling closed. She reveled in the feeling of completeness that pervaded her. Deep inside her she could feel Jean-Luc's rock-hard erection. Her muscled clamped involuntarily at the sensation. In response, he groaned and the sound sent a rush of desire through her. She shifted around him, trying to get a hint of friction-certainly not too much, but enough to stave off her still-growing need.

Without warning, she felt one of Jean-Luc's thick fingers skirt around the base of his penis, lubricating itself. The throbbing Beverly felt intensified, her breathing quickened as it occurred to her what he was about to do. She tried her hardest to be patient, to stay still as he moved his finger slowly towards its goal. He inched excruciatingly closer, then to the side and around the edges of where she wanted, no-needed him to touch her. Finally, finally the tip of his digit pressed deliberately over her pulsing clitoris. A long groan left her throat as a wave of satisfaction washed over her. Within her, Jean-Luc twitched slightly. His finger pressed down on her again, while he simultaneously pressed his lips to her neck. His fingertip moved in small circles over her as he urged her on between kisses. Between his passion-thickened words and dexterous movements, Beverly felt her lower abdominal muscles tightening and she squeezed around his erection in sync with his manipulation of her. Pleasure rolled through her and she groaned repeatedly. She knew Jean-Luc was reveling in the vibrations of her vocal cords beneath his mouth. She had no idea how he was managing to stay still within her, especially given how much harder he had become. She was finding it nearly impossible to keep from wrapping her legs around him and taking him hard and fast. But somehow she found the strength. Her hands came up to Picard's head, one caressing his fringe of hair, the other rubbing his bare scalp rhythmically. That grounded her a bit. It centered her in him, in them. As she let go of the last of her inhibitions, she felt a tightening begin deep in her womb, pulling her up and up. Her breath was coming in short, fast bursts, her internal muscles clenching, pulse racing, muscles along her inner thighs twitching from the intensity of the sensations. And then, as she teetered on the edge, a hair's breadth away from a shattering orgasm, his hand stilled and extracted itself from between her legs. He pulled his head up from her throat.

For several long moments they simply looked at one another, receding from the peaks they had almost reached. They heard nothing but one another's shallow breathing, saw nothing but one another's eyes. Beverly was certain that at that moment, they were truly one person. She grabbed Jean-Luc's hand and intertwined her fingers loosely with his. In the firelight his wedding ring stood out bright silver against his finger. Her fingers nimbly circled the band, gently twisting it and pulling it up to his thick knuckle. She saw a strip of lighter colored skin where the ring had been. Firmly, she tugged the band back to its resting place and planted a gentle, almost chaste kiss to the metal. Her eyes returned to her husband's and she smiled softly, a sentiment which he returned. Tenderly running her hands up his chest, Beverly placed one on the back of Jean-Luc's neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss.

Their lips met and held for a moment before unhurriedly moving against one another. The kiss deepened as Jean-Luc ran one of his hands down to her waist, gently caressing the skin there. She could feel the slickness on his fingers and it stirred her passion yet again. Her mouth opened to his, allowing his tongue to brush against hers in the familiar rhythm that was all their own. After a few moments, her knees bent, cradling him between her limbs, a leg looping over one of his. Her tongue stroked in and out of his mouth in keeping with their earlier tempo, and her hips soon joined in as well, urging him to begin moving. He did, pulling slowly out of her, almost until he was completely unsheathed, then returning, burying himself again. Relief flooded her body, but the persistent ache she felt deep within her remained. It would not be enough for long and she squeezed around him as he pushed into her again. He withdrew just as slowly. This time as he began his re-entry she implored him to quicken his tempo, seizing his backside with her strong fingers. He complied, falling into stride with the rhythm her body demanded. The feeling of his mouth on the notch at the top of her sternum drew her attention from where they were joined. Wave after wave of intensity crashed over her as he met her every thrust against his solid body. His attentions to her upper body amplified the sensation, overwhelming them both. Suddenly, Beverly felt the rush of climax race through her, her breath coming in short, quick gasps, body jerking intermittently. A few moments later she felt Jean-Luc stiffen as well, his breathing as sharp as his lover's. Their eyes met again as Beverly felt his weight lower itself fully onto her. They rested their foreheads against one another again, savoring the lingering feelings of pleasure and complete unity.

As their breathing returned to normal, Jean-Luc rolled onto his back. Beverly made a noise of disapproval and drowsily scooted over to curl up next to him. His arms pulled her closer, securing her to his still-heaving chest. Eyes still closed, she could feel the tears she'd been holding in slip, running down Picard's torso tracing a meandering pattern mirroring the raindrops on the windows behind them. Her scalp tingled as his uncontained tears fell onto it from above. They had both been overwhelmed.

After some time, they re-adjusted, lying on their sides facing one another, tucked snugly under the thick comforter which had covered the bed. Beverly bent her head, fitting the tip of her nose into the dimple on Jean-Luc's chin. He kissed her forehead, then murmured, "You always do that. Why?"

They were the first words either had spoken yet. Hearing Jean-Luc's rich baritone made Beverly wonder at the fact that no words had passed between them throughout the entire encounter. She marveled inwardly at the idea. They had been so connected, so in tune with one another that it certainly hadn't seemed that way. It was almost as though they had been back on Kes-Prytt, thoughts being transmitted without a sound. She supposed that this was what it would have been like to have made love that night. She had always wondered and now, she felt, she knew. It pleased her to realize that they had that intimate connection again, even more so that it was marriage and true knowledge of one another that led to it, rather than alien technology. This was organic and genuine, where that had been artificial and-

"Beverly?"

"Hmm?" she realized that he had asked her a question. Her reverie was broken.

"Your nose. You always put your nose there. Why?" he bent his head to try to get a better look at her. It made the normally taught skin of his neck wrinkle. She ran her fingers over it.

"Attractive. You're getting a little squidgy around the edges in your old age. I'm going to have to talk to your doctor about that." She commented. He frowned and straightened up.

"Excuse me, my collar size is-"

"Exactly the same as it was at the Academy. So I've heard," she retorted, shaking her head.

"Well, it's the truth. Now about your nose…" he put a finger on its tip. Beverly's eyes crossed as she looked down at his finger, then uncrossed as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

""I hadn't ever given it any thought. I suppose it's because we fit that way. And I like your dimple. Our children are going to have it, you know."

"Children?"

"When we have them someday," she replied evenly. It wasn't a subject they had broached since their marriage.  
"And when is someday?"

"You are full of questions tonight, aren't you?" she teased. But she could sense seriousness to his question. "Someday soon, I hope. Not yet, though. But soon."

Jean-Luc smiled and pulled her closer, entangling his hand in her hair. Beverly sighed against his chest and closed her eyes.

"Goodnight, Jean-Luc. I love you."

"And I you. Sweet dreams."

"I think they will be."

"As will mine."

The pair drifted into a sated sleep and the room was again silent, save the crackling of the fire, and tapping of the rain.


End file.
